


Two Can Play At That Game

by MoveTheUniverse



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Shameless Smut, argument leads to hot sex and a better relationship, such smut, these fools, two hot tempered captains in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoveTheUniverse/pseuds/MoveTheUniverse
Summary: Han and Cassian usually get some personal time together after their missions are done. However, a misunderstanding on the most recent one leads to an argument, which leads to Cassian deciding to prove he's just as good, if not better, in bed, than Han.shameless smut ahead!





	Two Can Play At That Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the first of... a couple Han and Cassian fics because I am utterly amused and delighted by them... and because rogueshadows is a wonderful head-canon supplier and also a brilliant beta.

There’s not much room to maneuver on the bunk of the Millenium Falcon, but that’s never stopped Han before, and it certainly isn’t tonight. Not with such a warm, willing, handsome as hell lover beneath him… and another six hours before they land back at base.

Cassian’s rule is they’re not allowed to fuck on the way there.

Han’s rule is that if the mission is successful (not goes to plan, no, just successful) they take the long way back to Hoth to gain some private time.

They’re pretty good at compromise, after a year of arguments that led to shouting that led to fucking that led to… something that sometimes feels pretty damn tender.

Not that either of them will ever say that.

But as Han reaches his climax, his hands gripping hard against Cassian’s hips, he thinks… he really might just love this uptight, stubborn, rule-oriented idiot.

After Han comes, he admits just that, as he slumps down beside Cassian, mumbling thanks and compliments and the words… “I love you. Fuck. I really do.”

Cassian just shakes his head. “I’m shocked.” He sounds a little hoarse, but not as wrecked as Han feels.

“Shocked I fucked you so good?” Han lazily cleans up as best he can, which… isn’t much. It’s Cassian who rolls over to pass him a bottle of water. His movements are always so graceful, so poised, even after sex. Maybe especially after sex. It’s the one time all the tension slides out of the spy’s shoulders, and the fire returns to his eyes.

“Shocked that you get so sappy,” Cassian laughs and kisses Han squarely on the mouth. That’s another thing that Han’s come to cherish. How Cassian, for all his icy demeanor, is so frequent with his kisses and touches. After the missions and before they return to base, they spend almost the whole time in contact. Even in the cockpit.

Actually, some of his best memories of this year have been in that cockpit…

“You should be shocked. It’s rare.”

Cassian just shakes his head. “Not as rare as you finishing a mission according to plan.”

“Hey! I finish missions with flare.”

“You wreck your missions in the first five minutes and spend the rest of the time re-constructing a plan from the burning wreckage.”

“Right, and you’ve never done anything like that, huh.” Han bristles, tugging his shirt on, and narrowly missing hitting his head on a beam of the bunk above them.

“Not as stupid as that last maneuver you pulled, no.”

Stupid? That quick thinking of his saved both their lives. If Han hadn’t shot the oil barrels near the Imp transporter, there’s no way they would have gotten back to the Falcon safely.  Who the kriff does Cassian think he is, anyway? Han fires back. “You’re just Captain Perfect now, huh? Can’t do no wrong.”

“I never claimed to be perfect!” Cassian snaps. He’s sitting up too, now, and there’s a very different fire in his eyes. When Han gets mad, his grammar slides away, back to the rough accent of the Correllian streets. But when Cassian is furious, his voice goes frigid. Crisp. Efficient. Far, far too much like the Imperial officer he’s spent (in Han’s opinion) far too much time impersonating. That voice scares Han. Makes him think there might be one day that Cassian won’t pull himself back from that ledge. That one day, Cassian will forget how to laugh, the way he’s admitted he’s forgotten how to sleep without a blaster under his pillow.  “But I certainly do not boast about prowess in which I am utterly lacking.”

“Hey, when haven’t I backed up my boasting, huh?” Han’s scared. He knows that. His heart is stuck somewhere in his throat and he can’t breathe but how the hell is supposed to admit that to Cassian? They’re not supposed to be scared. Not of shit like this. Just of the war. Of losing a battle. Not scared of losing each other. “Didn’t you see this ship make the Kessel Run? Didn’t you--”

Han cuts himself off because Cassian is standing now. Away from him. Glaring down at Han like he’s dirt on his boot. “Me?” He laughs, coldly. “I fake my orgasms.”

“Wh--with with who.”

Cassian just keeps glaring at him. Han taps his own chest, incredulous. Replaying all their nights together, all the soft noises he’d coaxed from Cassian, the whimpers and the pleas. No. Not all of those could have been faked. Right? He wouldn’t… “How often?

Cassian shrugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I? You are so convinced of your own skill, no? What would change that?

“I can change.” Han is caught somewhere between hurt pride and embarrassment at his own mistake. It’s his least favorite place to be. His pride keeps him safe, guarded, protected from admitting there’s so little he knows, so incredibly little he’s in control of in his life. But Cassian is the best thing that’s happened to him in ages, and he’s not willing to let his damn sexy, tender, generous lover go just for the sake of his ego. That thought alone is more terrifying than their most recent shoot-out with imperials.

Cassian matters more. More than Han’s pride. More than any one mission. Maybe more than anything else. Han adds, slowly.  “I… I’d like to change. I want it to be good for both of us.”

A slow smile spreads over Cassian’s sharp face. “You want to change? Good. Turn around.”

Han lets out a baffled noise. Cassian repeats the command, and Han finally acquiesced. He turns around, bent over his own bunk… and he can’t help but smile a little when he realizes what’s happening. If this is how an argument between them ends, so be it.

Cassian comments, “I can fuck you better than you take me, any day.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see that.”

“Oh, you’ll do more than see.” Cassian’s footsteps are so silent, the first thing Han feels is his hands, stroking down his back, lower, lower. There’s the snap of the lube bottle opening.

Han tries to turn to see. Cassian’s hand lands gentle but firmly on the back of his neck, keeping his vision locked straight ahead. “Hands over your head, Solo.”

“You’re really trying to take over, huh, Cas-”

There’s the tiny flash of bright pain, of a hand gripping one of his ass cheeks that makes Han moan. He’s not used to the feeling, but it’s still delightful, perhaps more so, in its surprise.  No. That’s not true. Sometimes Cassian does get pretty handsy when they’re facing each other, and fucking hell does Han love it. But this bunk isn’t made to accommodate that position.

Maybe it’s the bunk’s fault. Not Han’s.

That seems much more reasonable. No one else has ever complained.  “When we get back to our room, I’ll take you in the sonic shower. I know you like that, Cas-”

The girl on his rear melts into a sudden slap, and Han gasps. The man behind him growls, “that’s Captain to you.”

“Y-yes.” Han has to grit out the word but finds himself rapidly stiffing as he whispers it. “Yes, captain.”

"Good." But there's a pause in the hot, demanding touch, and when Han hears his voice, it's... it's just Cassian. Not the man crackling with power he somehow agreed to get fucked by. "Same rules as always," he whispers, gentle. They've done this game before, it's just... usually not Han whose the one on his knees.

"I make my own rules," Han shoots back, his ego returning. Cassian still wants him. They'll figure this out. Together. 

Cassian sighs, and his fingers drum on Han's shoulder. Waiting. Waiting. Han shifts, uncomfortable. Finally, he mumbles. "Okay, yes, fine, safe word, noted, all that."

"I have no idea why I put up with you."

"I think you were going to prove something? Weren't you? Something about how you're the better fu-- mmmm" Han's mouth is promptly sealed by a kiss. 

There’s the slightly uncomfortable sensation of being prepared, but Cassian’s hands are no less skilled in this than anything else. Han’s soon panting and wonders what’s coming next. Then, there’s a very distinct pressure against his read.

Kriff. Is Cassian ready so quickly?

Well. Arguing did always turn him on.

“Fuck me, Captain,” Han moans, just as Cassian’s free hand, the one not holding Han in place, starts to stroke him, tugging roughly, knowing Han’s still only half-hard. The pain and pleasure mingle. When Cassian starts to bite his ear, Han knows he’s done for.

No one’s gotten off yet and this is already the best sex he’s had in months.

“Yes. Kriff, yes, Cas-Captain. That feels so good.”

Cassian’s hand is still slick with lube and doing truly wicked twists down Han’s length. All the while his erection is pressing against Han’s tight opening but never entering.

“Can I… Please?” Han asks when he doesn’t think he can bear it much longer.

“No,” Cassian whispers and moves to play with his balls instead.

It’s a different pleasure, but not enough to get Han off. And the bastard knows it. Knows this is how to keep him on the edge, keep him starving for more.

“How bad do you want me?” Cassian whispers, before biting down Han’s neck, to his collarbone. Shit. He’s going to need to keep a scarf on tomorrow.

“So bad.”

“Bad enough to admit I’m right?”

“N-no.” Even though it’s clear he is.

“Ah. Pity.” Cassian’s hand finds a new place to stroke, behind even Han’s sack. The spy presses gently on the warm, tender place no other lover’s touched, and Han cries out. His shout is loud enough it echoes through the ship.

“F-fuck. I didn’t know you could… didn’t know that felt so good.”

“Mm. Called the--”

“Don’t you dare give me a vocabulary lesson.”

“You know,  if you ever read a holobook..”

“No holobook I’ve ever seen has--ahhh….”

It’s so close and so far from making Han come,  whatever Cassian is doing. Han should take notes, he thinks, in the small region of his brain that can still think. Make sure he does this to Cassian when they get home.

Home. Together. That reminds him… “So you’re not that annoyed at me, huh?”

“I’m always annoyed at you, Solo.” Cassian finally stops biting and sucking to lean forward and kiss Han’s desire-flushed mouth. “Unforcentlay, that also seems to draw me toward you.”

“We call that charm, where I’m from.”

“I was thinking more idiotic gravitational pull, but, fine. Yes. That too.”

“You think I’m charm--ahhh---FUCK.” Han cries out, as Cassian pushes deep and hard into him.

There’s no way for him to make words, no way for him to think of anything except release. He feels himself buck into Cassian’s free hand, screams out his name as he shatters, slumps onto the bed… and Cassian is still riding him.

Hard.

Han whimpers, softly. No one’s ever taken him like this. If Han admits it to himself, no one’s ever bothered to care this much about Han. All his romance has been for a night at a time, never long enough to learn someone else’s body, never long enough for him to admit all his feelings, all his desires, all his affections.

But Cassian has stayed, and Han needs to learn how to offer more. He’s going to start, he decides. They both need it. They’re both so used to hiding--the smuggler and the spy--neither of them ever allowed to admit too much, or let anyone get too close.

Starting now, that changes.

“Cas?” the name slips out, and Cassian doesn’t correct him. “I’m dancing with you at the next officer’s party. You hear me?”

They’ve never done that. Never let anyone see them hold hands, let alone kiss. Maybe that’s what’s gotten too much in Han’s head. Maybe he’s too afraid to show too much, and have it all break apart in his hands.

“I do,” Cassian kisses the back of his neck, both his hands now going to Han’s hips. He controls the rhythm the way Han’s seen him fly a ship, all careful dedication, not a single extra maneuver, no effort wasted, but not a wrong turn away, either. He bets it would be beautiful t to watch.

Han’s pretty sure there’s got to be a mirror somewhere on Hoth and makes a note to look for it when they get back. He’s got a list of things to do when they get back, things to make this all put to rights.

“And yes,” Cassian says, finally answering Han’s earlier comment. “I do find you charming, which makes me the bigger fool.”

The better fucker too, but Han still won’t say that.

He doesn’t say it.

Not until the very end. Not until Cassian has wrung him out as limp and needy as Han has ever been in his life. Not until Cassian has explored every inch of his skin, coaxed out another, and then another orgasm from Han, not until Han can barely even keep his eyes open from all the waves of pleasure echoing in his body.

Not until Cassian finds his own release, hot and deep, possessive as ever.

Then, and only then, does Han admit. “All right. You’re pretty good too.”

Cassian just hauls them both onto the tiny bunk. Shakes his head. Brushes the hair out of Han’s eyes, and kisses him.

It’s a few hours before Cassian admits, “I only fake when you seem too tired to get me off.”

“Never too tired for you.” Han tries to say, but the words slur. He pats Cassian’s shoulder. “You’re my guy. Always got you.”

“Yes,” Cassian laughs, but it’s gentle and warm. It’s Han’s favorite sound in the universe right now, and he’s pretty sure it’s the rarest. Han’s always been fond of rare things. He’s just never before had one of his own. “Yes, you do.”

And now, Cassian had Han, too.

  
  



End file.
